


stuck on you.

by DictionaryWrites



Category: The Big Chill (1983)
Genre: Cute, Dancing, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Music, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 19:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16248503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Alex and Michael are dancing by the lake.





	stuck on you.

Sam leans back in his deck chair even as it creaks, and he watches Alex and Michael with a little grin on his face. It’s early in the evening, and the sun is setting down low, putting everything in a beautiful, yellow haze - ostensibly, they’re out here by the lake so that Alex can make use of the golden hour to take his photos, but in practice, he’s doing  _nothing_.

Karen’s portable record player is cheerily throwing out one of Michael’s mom’s records, an Elvis album, and while Nick had initially complained about the music, he’d shut his mouth when Sam had punched him in the arm and stiffly reminded him why exactly Michael might  _need_  to listen to some of his mom’s stuff right now.

It’s still–

Sore.

No one else really seems to notice, except Sam and Harold, and Alex, of course. God knows the girls mostly can’t make head nor tail of Michael even when he’s laying everything out right in front of them, and Nick, well. Nick is just clueless, sometimes - about men, about women, about everything.

Glancing to the side, Sam takes in the scene. Sprawled on a picnic blanket, Sarah, Karen, Nick, and Harold are playing some fast-paced game of a card game Sam knows six different names for, but isn’t yet clear on the rules of; Meg is alternating between watching them and watching Alex and Michael, who are closer to the lakeside.

Michael’s hips are swinging as he dances, as if he’s a little uncertain of how big his own body is, but Alex is dancing like he always does, without abandon and with a big grin on his face.

This is–

Christ, when was the last time Michael smiled like this? It’s been a few weeks, at least, but the wound is still raw, Sam knows it is. Even if Michael doesn’t cry or wail or shiver, like Karen had when her grandma died last spring, he still wears his grief on his too-short sleeves: he’s stiff and uncertain, even more pedantic than usual, and sometimes, Sam catches him just staring into space… 

But Alex takes care of him. 

It’s nearly time for the break, and Alex has already said quietly to Sam and Harold that he’s gonna be taking Michael home with him, just to make sure he isn’t on his own, either here, or back at the house… His house, now. Michael had said that, yesterday, and then looked so damn broken apart Sam just hadn’t known what to  _say_  to him, what to do–

Home-owner and orphan at 22, in one fell swoop, and what’s he supposed to do with that?

 _But you’ll never shake me!_  
Uh uh, no sirree, uh uh  
I’m gonna stick like glue  
Stick because I’m… stuck on you

Alex is laughing as Michael runs to grab him, singing at the top of his lungs, and once Michael has him, he squeezes him tightly, not letting  him go. Of course, Alex isn’t trying too hard to get out of his grasp, and he lets Michael swing the two of them around, his arms pressed up against Michael’s chest, leaning up on his toes so he can brush their noses together…

Sam catches the way Michael’s lips part in anticipation, see the way Alex’s soft smile softens further, and he takes a long sip of his beer.

Yeah, they’re not exactly  _hiding_  it these days, but…

Giving a sidelong glance to the others, Sam searches for some kind of recognition on any of their faces, and he finds none. Meg even calls, “Push him in the lake!”, to which Michael retorts, “What, so he’ll wrestle me  _and_ get me wet?”

“I get you wet enough already,” Alex says, and Michael  _groans_ , releasing him immediately as everyone laughs.

“Aw, come on now, Big Mikey,” Sam says, offering Michael his beer, and Michael grins down at him, taking a sip. “Alex doesn’t get to say that to many people.”

“I wish he wouldn’t say it to  _me_ ,” Michael mutters, passing the bottle back, and Alex laughs behind him, sliding his arms around Michael’s waist from behind and pressing his cheek up against Michael’s back. Michael’s hands loosely settle over Alex’s, and down on the picnic blanket, Harold sighs in a dramatic, lovelorn fashion.

“Aw, when’s the last time  _you_  held me like that, Sam?” he asks forlornly, and Sam cracks up as the others laugh.

“The last time you had fifty dollars to earn the privilege,” Sam replies, and he glances up at Michael, who has a healthy flush in his cheeks - from the light exercise of dancing and wrestling as much as the attention, Sam guesses. “What’s your going rate, Mikey?”

“Who’s Mikey?” Michael asks, faux-archly. “I don’t answer to that name.”

“I pay him in kisses,” Alex says against Michael’s back, a little bit muffled. “Sometimes I let him have the prize in the cereal box.”

“Only sometimes,” Michael says with a sigh, and then he begins leaning back, putting more of his weight on Alex. Alex protests, but Michael is already falling back on top of him, and he pins the other man on the ground, sitting on his chest and leaning right over him, his beard brushing over Alex’s chin and making him laugh.

Sam looks back to the guys. No one clocks it. God, what do these two knuckleheads have to  _do_  for the others to realize? Start necking in front of everybody? Have a mock wedding? 

“Stuck on you, baby,” Alex murmurs against Michael’s beard, and Sam feels his lips twitch when Michael  _beams_. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Hit me up on Tumblr](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/faq). Requests always open.


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